


It's Not Okay Until It's Fine

by WDHawthorne



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9545315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WDHawthorne/pseuds/WDHawthorne
Summary: Sherlock and John at the end of The Lying Detective, as the scene fades to black.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just can’t get past S4. I tried reading some fix-it fic, but I can’t. It’s like I’m reading in a fog. I haven’t been able to force myself to watch the eps again. I feel like TPTB have taken all the fun out of what was a huge source of enjoyment for me. So I thought maybe if I took my favorite scene (guess which!) and work with it, maybe I’ll feel better?
> 
> I haven’t written any fanfic in over two years, not since a very dear fan friend of mine suddenly passed away. So this is probably a bit rusty and wordy. But I think I needed to do it. Maybe this will help me, and if it helps anyone else too, I’d be honored. I may continue this if the muse strikes...

_Put the cup down,_ Sherlock told himself _.  Slowly.  Don’t rattle it any more than necessary.  Don’t make any sudden moves._   Sherlock moved cautiously, rising from his chair with measured, careful discipline.  _Don’t scare him away._

 He took the small step toward John silently, approaching with care.  It would be so easy to spook him, to embarrass him now.  Always skittish about any show of strong emotion, any wrong move might send John fleeing from the room in shame.  But, for now, he was still here; huge, hot tears dripping from those hidden eyes, trusting Sherlock, _trusting him_ , _finally_ , and Sherlock was determined not to betray it.  John was giving him this gift, letting Sherlock see the real man inside, counting on him to keep this dark secret, keep it safe between them.  And he would.  By God, he would.  

 “It’s okay,” Sherlock whispered as he slowly reached a hand to him.  _It’s okay to cry, I won’t make any scathing remarks about sentiment.  It’s okay to cry.  It’s okay to cry on_ _me_ _, I will take care of you.  Always._

 When John didn’t startle or resist his touch, Sherlock slid his right hand gently up John’s shoulder and cupped his fingers around the back of his neck, soft skin and hair going unnoticed as he registered only the profound trembling in John’s body.  He settled his left hand over John’s other shoulder and rubbed soothingly, pulling John close, closer, until his forehead rested against Sherlock’s shoulder.

 “It’s not okay,” John sobbed, his voice choked, still hiding behind one hand as his other clenched and unclenched in a fist.

 “No,” Sherlock answered, agreeing as softly as he could.  _That was the wrong thing to say.  He’s right, it’s not okay.  Mary is still dead, he’s a single father, and he’s eating himself up with guilt._ He turned his head and rested his cheek against John’s hair as he continued to hold him.  “But it is what it is.”

 John shuddered with the effort to control his emotion, and a small gasp of a sob escaped again as he took a breath, but Sherlock didn’t speak again, not wanting to break the spell.  John was here, in his arms. and was letting him share his pain with him, and Sherlock was not about to chance saying the wrong thing again.  He simply pressed John’s head to his shoulder and rubbed his back, determined to just be there for him, until the end of days if necessary.

After a few seconds, John’s resolve broke, just a little, and he wound his right arm tightly around Sherlock’s waist, muffling his soft cries in Sherlock’s shoulder.  Sherlock winced at John’s heartbreak, knowing that there was no way to change things, no way to go back, no way to save Mary, no way to keep this hurt from devouring John.  He felt tears sting his own eyes and a tightness in his own throat, but tamped it back down.  He could cry his own tears, later, after John left.  But now…Now was for John.  He bent his head and pressed a small silent kiss to the top of John’s head.  He savored it, the warmth and softness and sweetness of it, a guilty pleasure amidst the heartbreak. 

Even as John’s breath began to even out, as his trembling began to ease, they still stood together, John’s arm clinging like ivy to Sherlock’s solid tree.  Sherlock slowed his gentle stroking of John’s shoulders and back, easing off until finally he merely caressed with a single thumb over the exposed skin of the back of his neck above his collar, over and over, breathing in his closeness.  John’s breath wafted gently against Sherlock’s damp shirtfront as he finally inhaled deeply and sighed, pulling his hand away to rest his cheek fully against Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Did you just…?”  John’s hand gestured toward the crown of his head as he began to pull away. 

“Yes,” Sherlock admitted, maintaining the honesty and letting his hands drop.  _Yes, I kissed you_.  He felt himself tense, immediately regretting the indulgence he’d allowed himself.  He’d pushed too far.  It had taken years, and tragedies, for John to trust Sherlock this much again, and now he’d crossed the line.  He bent his head in remorse, only looking up at John momentarily to judge his reaction.  “Sorry…?” 

John met his glance for a moment, then looked away.  Took a breath, exhaled.  Bent his head, then cocked it to one side.  Then he shrugged.   

“No.  No it’s fine.”  

 And then John took a step forward, reached his hands around Sherlock’s waist, and settled his cheek against his shoulder again, giving a deep sigh that sounded almost like contentment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
